Is that a Pistol in your Pocket?
by NotSrsBsns
Summary: No story. No plot. Who said saving the world had to be a serious venture? A series of one-shots that have nothing to do with each other. Collaborative fic.
1. Trophy

'_Alright,' _began Theresa. _'Now, take Thag's head – " _

"What?" Sparrow cut in. "Why would I want to do that?"

'_People in Albion are whispering of your deeds, but it is not enough. Should you ever need any extra renown, a trophy would be beneficial to you…' _

"And you think that carrying a head around as a trophy is a good idea," the Hero deadpanned.

'_Yes.'_

"I don't think so."

'_It will work.' _

"No, it won't."

'_It will." _

"It's a disembodied _head! _And it's not even a handsome one, honestly."

'_Sparrow,' _Theresa's voice was cold with impatience. _'Do as I say. Pick up the head, and take it with you. _

Sparrow looked at the head. Then looked at her bag. And then looked back at the head.

She picked it up and took it with her.

* * *

She couldn't help it.

With a beaming grin, Sparrow reached into her bag, pulled out the head –of –Thag – turned – trophy, and raised it proudly in the air. When she had gotten everyone's attention, she reached up and stretched the lips apart.

"Look!" she shouted happily. "I can make it talk!"

* * *

"I think it's rotting," Sparrow said to Chips. He wagged his tail in response, and Sparrow reached out to pat him on the head before pulling out Thag's head. Sure enough, as soon as she did, the stench of rotting flesh overwhelmed her.

"Great. What the hell do I do with this thing now?" she muttered. A moment later she looked up to see a traveling trader and smiled.

"Come on, Chips," she said excitedly, racing forward to meet the man.

As soon as she was within range, he exclaimed, "You're Sparrow!"

"Yes!" she replied as enthusiastically. "I know! And I have a gift for you."

It wouldn't be until Sparrow had fled to the other side of Bower Lake that the poor unassuming man opened up the bag and revealed to himself Thag's rotting head, screamed like a girl, drop kicked it as far as he could, and ran away in fear.


	2. Theresa

With a grunt, Sparrow pulled her sword out of the last bandit's chest. As she walked over to wipe the blood off in the grass, a sudden voice filled her head.

"_Sparrow?"_ Theresa asked.

"Um… yes?" Sparrow replied, a little thrown off guard.

"_I'm lonely."_

Sparrow didn't really have an answer for this, but thankfully Theresa filled the silence.

"_Why do you never come and visit?"_

"Uh…"

"_You're my only friend, and you haven't talked to me in months. I have needs too!"_

And, as quickly as it had begun, the talking stopped, similar to a dropped phone call.

"O…kay."


	3. Banshee

Fighting banshees, Sparrow realized very early on, sucked. Sucked balls. Sucked balls with amazing gusto. If she wasn't quick on the draw they _talked. _

The banshee she was currently involved with now was particularly tough to kill. They'd been at it for ten minutes now, and the insults were certainly becoming more heated.

"You suck!"

"No one likes you!

"You were adopted!"

In retaliation, Sparrow charged an Inferno spell and smiled as the banshee burned.


	4. Clothing

"_Sparrow, come to the Guild. I have to talk to everyone."_

Cursing under her breath, Sparrow turned on her heels and made her way out of Fairfax. She was anticipating (and dreading) the comments that would without a doubt be voiced about her outfit.

* * *

"…What are you _wearing_? Is that a powdered wig?" Hammer asked.

Sparrow groaned. "I was in Fairfax, ok? They don't talk to me unless I dress like this."

"So what do you wear when you go to Bloodstone?" Garth asked.

"I don't even want to talk about it. It's that embarrassing."

At this, Reaver, who had been only vaguely paying attention, now perked up. "Oh, I could tell you, if you-"

"Don't. You. Dare." Sparrow threatened the smirking thief.


	5. Pink

Reaver smiled to himself as he opened the door to his mansion in once again. He'd been informed that the last tenant, Sparrow, had moved out two weeks ago by a young woman as he arrived in the city. Why she would ever want to move into his home after she'd made her blatant disgust for him clear was a mystery.

He stepped inside, and blinked confusedly at what he saw.

"…Pink," he muttered. "Right."

Reaver turned around and went back outside, making a note to send for an interior decorator _immediately. _


	6. Chips

"Chips!" Sparrow called, then mumbled, "Ugh, where has that dog gone?"

She went back to retrace her steps, calling the entire way, hoping the dog hadn't strayed too far from where they had been. Down the pathway, up a small cliff, over the river, still no dog. Again, she reversed, going back to where she had noticed the dog was missing.

"Chips! Come here, boy!" Sparrow shouted one last time.

Unsurprisingly the dog still didn't show.

"Ugh, whatever. He's probably ahead or back at town or something."

With that thought, Sparrow pressed on. She traveled over harsh terrain for hours, finally getting to her destination as the sun was touching the horizon.

It was then she heard a bark.

The dog appeared in front of Sparrow. Almost like magic. No padding of feet, no warning of any kind. It just appeared.

"…Chips, I think we have to have a little talk later."


	7. Door

The Grave Keeper turned to Sparrow in a panic as Lady Grey continued to talk. "She falls in love with the first person she sees. You must leave!"

Several thoughts flitted through the woman's head before she sped down the hallway, none of them coherent. There was an overbearing sense of, '_Fuck this shit I don't want a corpse falling in love with me why did I even go dig this woman up in the first place..!' _

She reached the door and grasped the handle. It didn't budge.

"Hurry!" the man shouted again.

Frustrated and panicked, she shouted back, "It's locked! When did you lock this door? I didn't even see you do it! Why did you think this was a good idea!?"

"Just _get out!"_

She grasped her mace and swung it forward, smashing the obstacle with a satisfying crack. As she ran out of The Graveyard Mansion, Sparrow thought it would be a good idea to return at a later date and kick the shit out of its owner.


	8. Balcony

Sparrow grinned, looking down from the balcony. So this was the infamous Reaver? He didn't look that important. S_elf_-important, perhaps.

Tiptoeing in time with the sculptor's blows, Sparrow moved across to get into the perfect position. A quiet snicker left her lips, but no one seemed to notice. She got up from her knees, and in one swift motion, leapt over the balustrade.

The effect was, unfortunately, less in her favour than Sparrow had hoped.

At the exact moment she jumped, Reaver had stepped from his podium, coincidentally right were Sparrow was about to land. The two collapsed to the floor, Sparrow lying on top of the man.

"You know, my dear," Reaver said, completely comfortable with the situation, "if you wanted me that badly, all you had to do was ask."


	9. Glowing

"Oh dear." Hammer squinted in the dark to no avail. "I can't see a thing down here! How are we supposed to find those hobbes?"

Sparrow came up behind her after assuring Chips had come into the cave with them. "Here, let me walk in front."

Hammer blinked as the other woman came into view. "You're glowing. I mean, you glowed before, but this is _ridiculous." _

Sparrow rolled her eyes and began to move forward, lighting the way with only the will marks on her body. "Yeah? Well you try getting through Wraithmarsh with only your hammer. I had to upgrade!"

"…You're just embarrassed that you look like a Christmas Tree –"

"Shut it!"


	10. Backlash

"This time…" Sparrow muttered to herself as she prepared to cast a spell.

It charged, and then she let it release. A spread or fire went out in all directions as she mentally cheered. This moment of happiness lasted only a couple of seconds, however, before the fire _circled back_ and hit her, full force.

The result? Well, let's just say her clothes weren't exactly fire-retardant.

Deciding immediately to head to the nearest place she could get clothes, she snuck from behind tree to tree and head to the farm out in the distance. Surely the farmer wouldn't mind her taking at least an oversized shirt, right?

Sparrow was so enraptured in creeping about that she almost got a heart attack when someone spoke.

"Too poor to afford clothing? I've been there."

It was then Sparrow decided to never use will again.


	11. Family

Sparrow groaned and rubbed her temples. On the opposite side of the dinner table, Pete was talking enthusiastically.

"I'm so humbled by your stately presence I want to cry diamonds and throw them at your feet!"

"You're my favorite customer!"

She laid her hands out on the table. "We've been over this Pete, I am your _wife." _

"I can't believe how great everything is right now!"

Sparrow let her head fall on the table with a satisfying thunk.


	12. Skill

"So that's Reaver, huh?" Hammer muttered to Sparrow after they had teleported into the Guild. "Bit of a priss, ain't he?"

Sparrow shrugged. "We need him, I guess."

"What I don't get, though," Hammer continued without really acknowledging Sparrow's comment, "is why he's so short. I mean, skill is supposed to make you a million miles long, right?"

At this, Sparrow could only snicker.

"What? What's- oh. Sparrow, I haveta say, you have one of the dirtiest minds I have ever seen." She thought for a moment before continuing. "Then again, I suppose I _did _grow up with monks."


	13. Romance

Sparrow stooped down to pick up the small item that Garth had dropped as they silently made their way to the Brightwood Tower. Quickly, she scanned over the title: Cold Lips by Meredith Sock…

Oh dear. She brought a hand to her mouth to stop the giggling.

Up ahead, Garth had stopped and was waiting. When she had composed herself, she went to meet him.

"You, uh," she held out the book, biting her lip. "You dropped this."

The look on his face as he took it back was absolutely priceless.


	14. Chicken

Clinking filled the air. A hoard of bandits yelled and jeered, closing in on Sparrow. Her head whipped around, but she saw no exit. For the first time since that last… incident, she decided she would be forced to use will.

The bandits slashed at her as she charged the spell, but she held firm. Finally, Sparrow let go, managing an impressive one hit kill of all the bandits. Unfortunately, somehow a chicken had been mixed up in the spell.

Later, in town…

Whispers jumped from person to person as Sparrow made her way through the busy streets.

"I'm not crazy, right?"

"What on Earth…?"

"You see that too, don't you?"

"What's with the flowers?"

Eventually, there was one man who was brave enough to speak up properly. "Um, excuse me, miss? Why do you-?"

"Don't ask," Sparrow interrupted. "Just… don't."


	15. Awesome

Townspeople were peeking their heads around their homes and stalls a Sparrow finished the last of the assassins off with a flashy spell. A small boy, wide eyed and in awe, stepped forward.

"How do you _do _that?"

Sparrow turned to him, hands on her hips, chin high. The other civilians crept out from their hiding places to hear the Hero's answer.

"Because, young man…I am _awesome." _

The boy blinked. "I-is that it?"

"Of course not," she frowned, and pulled out her solar shielding spectacles. She put them on, slowly.

"I'm also _hot." _

With that, she ran off into the sunset, hair flowing in the wind.


	16. Barnum

Carnival music filled the air.

"Hello, everyone!" called a baby-ish drawl. "I have here wondrous items from faraway places! Our first item is a magical soup tin!"

Murgo held up a rusty can, complete with little stars all over in white paint.

"Now, this may _look _like a regular soup tin, but it in fact houses a mythical spirit that will grant your every wish! This wonderful item can be yours for just five gold pieces!"

Up came an old man, almost toothless with scraggly hair and worn out clothes to match. He bought the can without hesitation, wheezing in glee at the apparent amazing find.

No sooner than the money had changed hands did Murgo move on to his next item: a bullet proof vest. Said to "protect the wearer with a magical spell that deflects any bullet that comes near." The buyer? A sophisticated man named Barnum, on his way to Bloodstone.

* * *

Once again, Sparrow walked into the lovely Bloodstone Mansion. Again, Reaver stood, posing. This time it was for a photograph, but the result was the same.

"Three months?" Reaver laughed. "That's no good."

A shot rang out. And then another. Then three more, in a frustrated quick succession.

As it turns out, Murgo was still selling objects he himself did not know where magic. But unfortunately for Barnum, as amazing as the vest happened to be, it was not advertised as sword proof.


	17. Demon Door

Sparrow was having a bad day.

As the Demon Door rambled on about what _else _it wanted, the Hero thought briefly of taking a Reaver-ish approach and asking it in a Reaver-ish kind of way to open up. Which would, of course, include not being very nice at all. And a pistol.

Word would eventually get out though, like it always did (she just knew that creepy Bard was around here somewhere, watching from the shadows, following her every move, and writing whimsical lyrics about her walk through the woods). Somehow, despite how far the pirate was, Reaver would find out.

The very thought of stroking his ego nearly made her want to put something on fire.

So, grudgingly, she turned and set off for Fairfax to gather the necessary items.

'_Whatever's in that damn door better be good.' _

* * *

Later, after having successfully removing all traces of facial hair and desposed of all clothing the Demon Door had asked her to buy, Sparrow came across the one thing she _really _did not need to see.

Off in the corner was the Bard, surrounded by a crowd of people. On instinct, Sparrow dove behind a large crate, praying nobody had seen her. A moment later, he began to sing:

_Our brave hero took a leisurely stroll in the forest_  
_Unsuspecting of the giant door that was Boris_

_He refused to open 'til the hero agreed_  
_To bring him the cheese of which he would continually plead_

_The hero did so with a hint of detest_  
_But this was but the beginning of the quest_

_The door refused to allow the exchange_  
_Until the hero had donned a get up quite strange_

_When finally allowed in with persistence and luck_  
_The hero gazed upon the treasure and said, "Door, what the hell?"_

Sparrow slapped a hand to her face.

"Where _hasn't _he followed me?"


	18. Storm

The night was dark. No moonlight fell through the clouds. Rain collided lightly with a light pitter patter on the road, turning the dust to sludge.

A figure knelt in the muck, ignoring the brown goop seeping into his expensive clothes. How could he care about something as trivial as mud when his beloved lay before him on the road in pieces?

"Please, don't leave me!" he begged. "I'll do anything, just stay with me! I need you by my side forever! I'll die without you!"

His ceaseless please were in vain. No matter what he said, his love was not going to return. Yet he continued, until finally he accepted there would be no reversal of events.

The sounds of the storm fought against his shouts, until they grew softer and softer still. "I'll avenge you," Reaver whispered as he cradled the pieces of his broken pistol in his hands.


	19. Potty Training

"Mommy! It's so good to see you – where did you go this time?"

Sparrow did not answer. She stared long and confusedly at what should have been an infant, what _was _in infant three days ago, but now a young boy.

She looked up at her husband. "_What did you do?" _

The farmer put up his hands in defense. "Nothing! I woke up yesterday and there he was, talkin' and everything!"

Sparrow, thinking of every strange thing that had ever happened to her (she should write a book, honestly), decided that this too was something to slip into the, "I'm not even going to fucking bother" folder, and decided to look on the bright side.

"Well, we didn't have to potty train him, at least."


	20. Children

Sparrow didn't care what anyone said. The benefits of being famous _did not_ outweigh the negatives.

Everywhere was, "My friends have been asking me why I haven't gotten engaged yet", "A gift every now an' then would be nice", "Yes, do it again!"

Yes, you got discounts everywhere, yes people knew who you were, but the people would not stop following you, and they were so _demanding_.

And the kids…

Sparrow shuddered. She heard the shouts behind her, asking for autographs. Finally, she dared to look behind her. What could only be described as a small army was following her, completely comprised of children.

It was all Sparrow could do to race to the bridge and jump, the eerie shouts of, "Can I have your autograph?" echoing, even a mile down the river.


	21. Future

"So," Sparrow was grinning in a way that suggested violence in the form of a pistol. "You thought I was out of the way, didn't you?"

Reaver, for the first time in his life, felt utterly helpless. Damn it all if he chose to show it, though.

"Sparrow," he said calmly. "How nice to see you after all these years."

"One hundred and fifty two to be exact."

"…How are you…?"

"Immortal bloodline," she deadpanned.

"Ah." Reaver felt suddenly as if his life was about to take an interesting turn in the wrong direction.

"Things are about to get…difficult, if you hadn't noticed," Sparrow said_. _"Theresa needs speak with you."

"May I ask why?'

"No you may not," she smiled and then tossed the covers off of him in order to get him up and out. "Oh my goodness, it _is _just like you to not to wear clothes while you sleep."


	22. Traders

Sparrow groaned as she moved from her thirty-seventh position on the bench in Fairfax Gardens to make her hourly rounds.

Rob the light weapons trader. Not what she needed.

Sally, Harry, and Chad, the pet supplies traders. Pointless, and not what she needed.

Charlie the food trader. Cute, but not what she needed… right now.

Sparrow growled to the sky in frustration.

"Where the _hell_ is a gifts trader when you have jewels to sell!"

She let out a huff, feeling slightly better. Her face faded from its original angry red to a light and glowing irritated pink. To her left, a nobleman dressed head to toe in white and gold eyed her with some caution.

"Pardon me for saying," he began," but that really wasn't very ladylike…"

Her head snapped to the left.

"Pardon _me_ for saying," she mocked, "but _up. Yours._"

And with that (plus a rather obscene hand gesture) Sparrow stalked back to her bench to wait for the thirty-eighth hour.


	23. Roll

"_Why is this happening_!" Sparrow, again, took a step to the side, and again, found herself tumbling down into a roll. Any longer and she would make a complete circle.

The crowd above them was murmuring quietly in their confusion. Every now and then an angry spectator would say something along the lines of, "Get your ass up and _kill _something, would you!"

If she walked, she rolled. If she jumped, she rolled. Sparrow sighed and decided to contact Theresa; there was always a good chance that she may have a solution.

Just as she was about to make that mental push, a high pitched whirring sound that she'd thought she'd ridden herself of fifteen minutes ago came from behind.

Without needing to think she pulled out her pistol and pulled the trigger, earning a rather satisfying squeal of pain.

"Eat my face now, bitch," Sparrow said, remembering a not so pleasant encounter with the over grown beetles when she'd first started out as a hero.

She made a step without thinking just as another beetle emerged from where the last one fell, and smacked right into the wall.

"Man I hope that Bard isn't here," Sparrow muttered to herself, looking up.

Sure enough, there he was, writing down what was sure to be the early stages of a new song.

"God dammit!" 


	24. Gargoyle

"I'd ask you to try and shoot me, but you'd probably poke yer eye out instead!"

Sparrow's head whipped around. That yell was a gargoyle, plain as day. And she _would_ hit it.

Pulling out her gun, she scanned the nearby buildings trying to find where the annoying creature was hiding. A couple of people screamed and ran, along with the few idiots saying that she'd ruined their day or some nonsense. She paid them all no mind. Sparrow was on a _mission_, and pigs would fly before she cared what the brainless townspeople thought about her carrying a gun.

"I bet your shooting's as bad as your body odor!"

Sparrow's eye visibly twitched, and she let off a couple of shots. Brick fragments showered her (as did complaints), but no dice. The gargoyle remained.

Irritated, Sparrow put away her gun and began to walk away. A plan began to form in her mind as the cries of, "Don't you try and ignore me, you pink-bellied Numptee!" faded into the background.

Sparrow grinned. Oh yes. This was going to be a wonderful plan.

The next day, the hero returned to the spot she had heard the gargoyle. The yelling was still as loud as ever, as Sparrow set up to get that damned thing once and for all.

After several hours of backbreaking work, Sparrow straightened up and examined her handiwork. The building in front of her was not only covered with explosives of every conceivable shape and size; it was also _filled_ with them. There was no way the gargoyle would get away, and this made Sparrow extremely happy.

Excitedly, the girl used a quick fire spell to light the wick, and then hightailed it out of there without explaining to the questioning villagers. She was out of the city by the time the pile went off, and had stopped on a hill to watch the beautiful, beautiful explosion. When the smoke had cleared the rubble previously known as Bowerstone, Sparrow headed back to inspect the success with a smug grin spread across her face.

When she had waded through the stones and broken glass, Sparrow took a moment to revel in the silence. A moment, unfortunately, was all she had. From the top of the only surviving structure - a lone spire barely more than a thin tower of bricks - came a call.

"You must be the sorriest excuse for a hero I ever saw, and I've seen _plenty!_"


	25. Liver

Sparrow frowned as more ghosts appeared in the crowded room of the sinkhole. Captain Dread's voice cackled from above, confident that she wasn't going to find that gold he'd hidden centuries ago.

"Bring me her liver, men!"

The hero actually stopped mid-swing and looked up at the ceiling. The ghost pirate she was about to wollop with her Axe of Disharmony stopped as well, looking confusedly at his ghostly counterparts.

"What in the world," Sparrow began, "would you want with my liver? What could you even possibly do with it? Do you realize just how stupid that sounded?"

The Captain's disembodied voice sputtered for a moment, mumbling something about how livers contained a lot of iron. Sparrow rolled her eyes and determined that he couldn't give a satisfactory answer, shrugged her shoulders and finished her swing. The cry of pain her enemy gave was satisfaction enough anyhow.


	26. Loading

Sparrow muttered to herself as she trudged along the lakeside.

"Sick of it… should take a carriage next time… should just get everything over with in one place…"

This, in itself, was not particularly odd. What happened when she approached the border between what was considered Bower Lake and Bowerstone Market, however, was. Without any warning, the scene changed.

"Oh, jeez, what's happening _now_…?" Sparrow asked, not being able to see anything.

The scene changed again. This time, Sparrow could see Bowerstone clearly, melded with some odd map of the area. Small turning gears floated around in clumps, some occasionally knocking into the hero lightly before drifting on their merry little way.

"O… kay. This is weird."

Then, words began flapping around like birds.

"'Loading Bowerstone Market'… 'Teach a man to fish'… 'Use Raise Dead'… What?"

She continued to float along for a few more minutes, attempting to get accustomed to the place and trying to find a way out. Then, before she realized what had happened, the place vanished and was replaced with the path to Bowerstone.

"Well…" Sparrow said, more than just a little bit confused. "I guess that's not the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me."


	27. Railing

"So, how is your dear David doing?" Reaver asked, handing her the document he needed her to overlook. Sparrow took it from him with a look in her eyes that clearly said, "You don't really give two shits but I'm going to have to answer you anyway, won't I?"

"He's dead."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Lead him into the forest and kicked him over the railing."

Reaver chuckled. "I'm impressed. But why in the world would you do something like that?"

Sparrow shrugged and returned to her work. "He wouldn't stop complaining. And he was very forgetful."

"Oh come now, it couldn't have been that bad."

Sparrow scoffed. "He forgot that I was his wife. _Several _times. In the same day. "

Reaver appeared to reconsider his view on the matter and nodded his approval. "Ah, I see. Good for you, then."

* * *

Tegan Shade, thanks for involuntarily giving us the idea for this chapter. We salute you, and all of our readers and reviewers. Stay gold, y'all.


	28. Sandwich

The Chamber of Fate was silent, save for the occasional dripping of water and the buzzing of a beetle. Theresa was working on her… whatever she worked on, and Hammer was actually just sitting around being quiet for once. At least for a little while.

"Hey, Theresa?" Hammer asked, getting up from her temporary seat on the floor. The gypsy woman in question tilted her head slightly, but otherwise showed no signs of recognition. "You can see into the future, right?"

"I can see many things," Theresa replied. "The future does happen to be one of them."

"Does that mean you can tell me what my future is gonna be like?"

"That depends, Hammer. Are you asking me to look into your future?"

"Well, it _would_ be kinda nice…" the warrior monk answered. Theresa sighed as she put down the glowing whatever she had been focusing on for a moment, and turned to look (for lack of a better term) at Hammer.

"Here, take my hand," Theresa guided as she put out hers. Hammer did so, and the world around her faded to black. Another scene reappeared, from a low bird's-eye view. Hammer was sitting in a bar, a sandwich in front of her. The (just barely) younger Hammer watched her (just barely) older counterpart take a bite out of the sandwich, and then make a face.

"Ugh, turkey!" the older woman groaned. "I don't even like turkey…"

The scene then faded to black again, and back to the Chamber of Fate. Hammer felt Theresa let go of her hand as she turned to go back to her business.

"…Wait, that was it?" Hammer asked finally. "Me eating a turkey sandwich in some bar? Well, ok, I guess I at least know I'll be out of this cave soon, but that didn't exactly tell me much!"

"You asked to see the future, and I complied. I cannot control what you see," Theresa retorted, just a hint of a smile on her shadowed face.

"Oh, bullshit…" Hammer muttered as she went back to sit down.

* * *

We wanted to dedicate this chapter to two anonymous reviewers for defending us. You know who you are. We love you.

We also wanted to dedicate it to CrimsonBloodGoddess for reasons not to be disclosed here. Don't worry, hun. We love you, too.


	29. Magic

Hammer sat down tiredly and leaned on her weapon. Before Sparrow did the same, she did one last scope of the small area to make sure no Hobbes or Balverines were hiding around.

The two were quiet, enjoying the moment of peace when the monk froze, eyes wide. "Where's Chips?"

Sparrow looked from left to right and saw no sign of her dog. However, this didn't seem to faze her. "Oh, don't worry, he'll turn up."

Hammer didn't look so confident. "How can you act like that? Anything could have happened to him – "

"Relax," the other woman cut her off. "Look."

There, in front of Hammer was Chips, wagging his tail excitedly.

"What – how – I mean – how did he _do _that?"

Sparrow shrugged. "He's magic."

"…What?"

"He's magic," she repeated, and at Hammer's unconvinced look, added, "I really don't know but if I find out, I'll let you know."


	30. Treasure

The Hero of Bowerstone trudged up the path to the Temple of Light in silence. Her dog, Chips, had gone missing a while back, and she hadn't heard from him since. Occasionally she got worried, but it was becoming increasingly common. He always showed up fine, so Sparrow figured she'd just let him go about his own business for the time being.

And then dog barked somewhat in the distance, quite clearly calling for her. Sparrow sighed quietly and attempted to locate the source of said noise. She called and called, the bark seemingly never getting closer. Eventually she found the dog, somewhere far back along the road, stuck between two large rocks.

"Oh, Chips, not again…" the woman muttered, reaching down to free the poor creature. "You've gotta be more careful."

The dog merely yapped happily once it was free, and proceeded to run off, barking excitedly about some new treasure he had found before getting himself jammed. With a joking roll of the eyes, Sparrow followed the energetic animal to dig up whatever he had found this time.

It turns out the dig spot was only a couple minute's walk down the path, which was good, considering how far Chips could apparently sniff out treasure. Sparrow pulled out her shovel and begun to dig as Chips attempted to avoid the flying sprays of dirt.

After longer than Sparrow wanted to be digging, the tip of the shovel finally hit something was decidedly not dirt. Grinning, the woman pulled the sack from the ground and dusted it off. A heavy bag of gold was always good. Sparrow opened the pouch and counted ten thousand gold.

"Well, that's a… decent amount of gold." She turned to Chips, who was wagging his tail and sticking his tongue out, knowing he was getting a treat later. "Why couldn't you have found this at the beginning of my journey, you stupid dog?"


	31. Hollow Man

Sparrow skidded to a halt as another Hollow Man rose from the Earth. Just as she was about to shoot it, it sunk back into the ground.

"What the hell just happened," she muttered, staring confusedly at where it had disappeared. Chips pawed at where it had come up, but quickly became bored and jumped down from the edge and barked for Sparrow to follow.

She shrugged and leapt from the ledge, only to be met with at least seven to ten Hollow Men. In front was the same one she'd encountered just before. For a skeleton with no facial muscles, it was looking pretty smug.

"Too scared to fight me all by yourself, huh?"

The smug look wavered a bit, and then disappeared completely when a fireball appeared in her hand.


	32. Sleepy

"Creepy crossdresser… don't like hobbe caves…" Sparrow muttered to herself. She had just recently met a man named Tommy. A man that she hoped to never meet again if she could help it. And currently she and her little furry friend were ducking through a cave full of easily aggravated hobbes. Not particularly a pleasant day, but all in all not too unusual when one is in the line of hero work.

At least until Sparrow came upon the bed roll, that is.

She didn't know what had happened until she woke up with a skeleton arm wrapped around her.

Ordinary day, indeed.

* * *

After that little incident, everything seemed normal. She hadn't slept in any odd beds and she hadn't randomly fallen asleep anywhere else. Then came her journey through Wraithmarsh.

Sparrow sprinted through the misty wetland, hoping to get to Bloodstone as quickly as she possibly could. Call her crazy, but she didn't like having to fend off hollowmen every few minutes. She passed by all the buildings because of this. Well, all but one.

When she went running past, a sign on the front of a lonely building caught her attention. "Ursula's Home for Little Lost Souls." As much as she wanted to get out of there, she couldn't pass up looking inside for just a moment. What a mistake that was.

This time she didn't wake up with a skeleton hugging her, oh no. She woke up to the curious eyes and whispers of a hoard of ghost children.

Sparrow somehow managed to get to Bloodstone quicker than she would have had she not taken that nap.

* * *

In Bloodstone, all seemed perfectly normal. Before going to meet Reaver (from what Sparrow had heard already he wasn't going to be very pleasant), she decided to take on a couple of quests. After talking with Salty Jack and buying him a drink, she was on her way to Lionhead Isle.

Everything was going great. Sparrow was mowing down any and all ghost pirates that got in her way. Nothing could stop her… except the bed in Captain Dread's chambers. For reasons she could not comprehend, once again she succumbed to a bout of narcolepsy and fell asleep in the bed.

Waking up to the pleasant feeling of a ghost pirate's sword jammed right through your stomach had nothing on a hangover.


	33. New Pet

"I would like some Mutton Tenderlion, please," came a young voice from behind him.

The meat vendor turned away from his stock, ready to serve another customer but stopped short when he noticed the hulking figure behind the counter. "What the _hell _is that thing?"

The boy looked up at the large Balverine, and then back at the vendor. "He's my pet. His name is Sparklefist." He wobbled the leash he had on it for extra emphasis.

"Kid, where the hell did you get that thing?" he wheezed, one step away from shouting for the guards.

"Mommy gave him to me," he told him, rather proudly. "Said it was time I learned some responsibility. She says it's how_ she_ learned, with a pet. I get to feed him and wash him and clean up his poo. I don't like the poo part, but the other stuff is fine."

The older man didn't move, staring, horrified at the situation he'd found himself in.

Octavius frowned, becoming a little impatient. "Can I have the meat now? Sparklefist is really hungry."

The boy found himself with a face full of Mutton after the vendor had simply thrown it at him, and while that was unpleasant, he hadn't had to pay a thing.


	34. Shooting Range

It was a fairly quiet day for the Wescliff shooting range. The occasional traveler came along to try their hand at it (and then fail), but other than that, the area was as quiet as a needle in a haystack. Well, at least until Sparrow came.

The woman had heard about the place from a traveling merchant on the way to the Crucible, and felt like she needed to give the place a go. After all, she _was_ a pretty damned good shooter.

When she got there, Sparrow paid the man the fee and cocked her gun while vaguely listening to the man's instructions. She took aim, and the game began.

For the most part, she was able to ignore the man's irritating random comments and focus on her shooting. There had been the _occasional_ misfire, usually involving a bullet getting a little too close to the man's very sensitive private regions, but for the most part it was fine.

* * *

"You got kicked out? What did you _do_?" Hammer asked.

"He… he said my shooting was 'actually quite good'," Sparrow mumbled.

"So what? I've told you your shooting was good before. Isn't it a compliment?"

"You didn't say my shooting was 'good', Hammer. You rightly told me my shooting was '_amazing_'. I had to make him understand that."


	35. Parenthood

"Come on, boys! Let's kill – "

Before the bandit could finish the sentence, he was transformed into a charred corpse via a fireball to the face, still twitching slightly. The other members of the gang looked up, genuinely disturbed.

What was supposedly the Hero of Albion, champion of the crucible, defender of peace and good will, was juggling in one hand, another fireball, and in the other, a sleeping baby.

"I haven't gotten any sleep in two days. If any of you wake him up," she hissed, all the more menacing due to her tired, sunken in eyes, "I will _end you. _Now _leave!" _

* * *

"Did you and Hannah have fun today?" Sparrow asked idly as she took her son's hand.

He shook his head yes and told her, "I especially liked the part where we went to the store with all the smelly people. They sing real loud and fall down a lot. It wasn't very fun when they all started to throw up, though. "

Sparrow groaned and made a mental note to look for a new babysitter in the area. The last thing she needed was her four year old hanging out in bars.

* * *

"The monster is in here?"

"Yeah!" came the muffled, terrified voice from underneath the covers. Sparrow shook her head and tried to think of a way to insure her son that there were in fact, no monsters in his closet.

She took a step back, charged a Force Push spell, and launched it at the closet door. It broke in several pieces, revealing the empty space behind it.

"Well," she turned back to her son, who had unearthed himself from his blanket to watch. "If it's in there, it ain't happy."

* * *

"My dad's a blacksmith, so _he's _the coolest. He makes all the weapons all the best heroes use," boasted one child in the school yard.

"My dad makes armor for a living – the richest people come around to buy stuff all the time!"

Nathaniel blinked and said, "My mom saved Albion once."

The other two boys looked at each other, then back to Nathaniel. "Cool."


	36. Letter

Sparrow was giddy with everything that had happened that day. She had defeated Lucien, revived her dog, and soon she would get Rose back. Everything was better than it had ever been before.

She arrived at the docks, still elated beyond reason. As she stepped onto the worn down planks, a man approached her.

"Are you Sparrow?" he asked.

"In fact I am, my good man. What can I do you for?" Sparrow replied with an almost frighteningly huge smile.

"Uh… I have this letter…"

The man pulled a folded piece of paper from his bag, and gingerly handed it to the still beaming woman. Then, more than a little scared, he scurried away as quickly as possible.

Sparrow took the letter and unfolded it, peering at the childish scrawl slanting diagonally on the paper. She recognized the handwriting and her grin grew so big it was threatening to devour her face. She read the letter through quickly.

"…What. The. FUCK?"

The next few minutes were quite terrifying to behold, and the story of "the frightening goddess with the power to destroy a thousand ships and their lofty cargo with one swing of her mighty sword" would be written down in bard song lyrics for centuries to come.


	37. Psychiatrist

Reaver couldn't quite beieve he was here, in this room, talking to some strange man he didn't know. The couch he was lying on was the way he liked it, at least, expensive and overly soft, and it gave him some sense of comfort.

"I suppose it started with my father," he said as the man across from him nodded for Reaver to continue. His legs were crossed, paper and pencil in hand, poised to take notes. "He never loved me, you see."

"Mm-hmm."

"And then there was that ordeal with the shadow court…dear me, that was a loud night."

"Mm-hmm."

"It bothered me for awhile, though I must say I can't complain now. I've enjoyed myself too much to ever fully regret it."

"Mm-hmm."

"I did lose the only person I ever cared for, however."

"Mm-hmm."

"…My mother, that is. She always tried to do right by me. Can't say I've ever lived up to her expectations. Killed too many people for that."

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you have any advice, my good man?"

The doctor looked at him, old eyes bored and lips pulled into a frown. "No, I'm afraid not. From what I have gathered you are singlehandedly the most narcissistic, egotistical man I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Quite frankly, your utter disregard for other people's lives is greatly disturbing. I do not think there is anything that anyone can do for you, except maybe shoot you, I suppose."

Reaver stood up, seemingly unfazed. "Well, this was actually fairly rewarding for me. Unfortunately for you, I can't let this information get out."

A shot rang out, and a moment later Reaver was walking away from the house, whistling. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten that speech, and it wouldn't be the last.


	38. Beetles

Beetles? Really, beetles? He had to get a _kid_ to get rid of beetles? Sparrow rolled her eyes at the silliness of the situation, but went inside the warehouse nonetheless. Money was money, after all.

She could hear their buzzing from up on the rafters, so she navigated her way around the mountains of boxes to the stairs. At the window near the stairs, Grossmaster McNasty Arfur was calling out, telling her to smash the stock for a gold coin. Sparrow took a glance at the boxes. Then glanced at the beetles. Then back at the boxes. And finally at Arfur.

"But boxes don't _move_."

With that, Sparrow headed upstairs and pulled out her toy gun, and cautiously walked down the second floor. _Pop!_ There went one giant beetle with a satisfying crunch. _Pop! Pop!_ The next two went down next to each other, both without much of a fight. Ew, boring. Sparrow turned; she could hear one more behind her.

"Where are you…?" she muttered to herself. As if answering her question, it dropped from the rafters, right onto her head. Flailing, she slapped it to the floor and crushed it beneath her foot. With a sigh, she turned towards the stairs, where the complaints of Arfur were wafting unpleasantly upwards.

Unfortunately for her, what Sparrow didn't know was that there was actually a fifth beetle hiding silently in the shadows, and it found the back of her neck particularly appetizing. After writhing around on the ground for a moment or two, Sparrow finally managed to shake the horrifying thing off and run it through with her wooden sword.

Catching her breath, Sparrow got up and again began to head towards the stairs. As she headed down, Arfur was still being an unlikable whiner.

"Do you know what I had to do to _get_ those beetles!"

Sparrow gave him a look as she got to the first floor.

"Uh… pick them up? They're kind of everywhere."

* * *

Just a heads up, all you wonderful readers you, we're clearly running out of ideas. Plus Fable 3 is going to be released soon. Therefore, we're going to be winding down with a few more chapters (if we can come up with any ideas), and finally ending this series. It's been great, and we appreciate all the reviews.

On a less melancholic note, we _do_ plan on writing oneshots for the next game, and we hope you'll join us for those. KEEP BEING AWESOME.


	39. Box

Sparrow sighed and let herself sink to the ground, not even halfway to Oakfield. It would take two more days, at the very least, and supplies were running low.

Chips whined softly beside her, and she lifted a hand to scratch behind his ears. "I know, buddy, I'm hungry too."

After a few more moments, she remembered that the bandit camp she had destroyed a mile or two down the path more than likely had provisions she could take. She hadn't thought about it after the fight; the smell of charred flesh was motivation enough to get the hell out of there.

It would be worth it to go back, though, if only for any food they may have stored away. If Sparrow was really lucky, there may even be valuables left over to sell.

"Come on, Chips!" she called, standing up. "It's time to go steal dead people's possessions!"

* * *

"WHAT THE HELL." Sparrow was breathing heavily, surrounded by broken boxes and empty chests. After spending a good half hour rummaging through anything she could find, the only items she had come across were condoms.

_Condoms. _

"Yeah, because anybody in their right mind would want to have sex with a _bandit," _she muttered to herself.

Disgusted, she threw them to the ground. As she trudged away from the camp, disappointed, she gave one last box a good kick out of frustration.

For the first time, something _did _fall out, and Sparrow dove for it in excitement. She held it up; a rather small pistol, with the word "Dragonstomper" engraved on the side.

Sparrow looked surprise. "This is…"

The pistol gleamed in the sunlight, with an audible, _gleam! Sparkle, sparkle_.

"…a total piece of shit." Rolling her eyes, she tossed the gun into her bag with every intention of selling it later on.

_Someone _would want it.

* * *

Thanks to Ms. Lilly for giving us the idea for this chapter. We really appreciated it.


	40. Five

Two silly kids, a con man, and a magical music box. Oh, the contradictions.

"Awrigh' li'l Sparrow, le's get to work," Rose said, a feeling of determination welling up inside of her. "There's gotta be at least one person 'round here willin' to give us some gold."

The poor kids went around town. They did odd jobs for anyone that would offer them a measly one gold in return. True, they were jobs that the adults should be able to handle themselves, but _one gold_? That's just pathetic.

First, finding warrants for a policeman. Easy enough. Posing for a picture. Awesome. Fighting giant beetles. Irritating, but not too hard. Getting beer back from a sleeping guy in an alley. A little nerve-wracking, but nothing Sparrow couldn't handle. Delivering a love letter. Easy as pie. Saving a dog was just icing on it.

…Actually, icing on pie sounds really gross, but I digress.

Finally, as the sun began to make its way down towards the horizon, Rose held the last gold coin in her clammy little hand. She grinned and enjoyed the sound of the metal clinking together.

"Le's go get that music box, sis'." The excitement in her voice betrayed her skeptical exterior.

They began making their way over to Murgo's cart to buy the music box.

"Hey, sis'?" Sparrow asked quietly.

"Yeah, li'l Sparrow?"

"Um… if we could make five gold this easy, how come we never done it before?"

The scene froze. Everything went dark, and sounds were muted. A man's scratchy, booming voice filled the air.

"DON'T QUESTION THE GAME DEVELOPERS, STAN."

Then, as if nothing had happened the scene went back to normal. Rose seemed to not have heard Sparrow's question. She never mentioned it again.

* * *

Years later, when the whole incident had been forgotten, Sparrow was waltzing around the countryside, opening random treasure chests she found.

"Sweet, ten thousand gold! Hey, Chips, remember when we found you we had to work the _entire day_ to get _five gold_?"

Chips barked happily.

"Haha, yeah. We were such stupid kids." Sparrow thought for a second. "Hey, you know, I wonder why people leave these treasure chests around. I mean, they're not exactly hidden or anything, and they're obviously not locked. You'd think they're just around for me to steal from."

Once again, the area went black. Sounds were muted, birds were frozen in the air. The same voice, one Sparrow never thought she would hear again, reverberated in the air.

"SHUT UP, STAN."

The area went back to normal.

"…Huh. Well, that was weird."

And then they ran off into the sunset to go steal some more.

* * *

Again, a thanks to the wonderful Ms Lilly, who provided the idea for this chapter.

On a related note, we plan on attempting 50 chapters, with the last one being on the release date of Fable 3. Our weather forecast is showing there will be a large amount of funny all week, with a 100% chance of AWESOME.


	41. Andrew

Sparrow peeked her head around the corner, pistol out, with Reaver behind her, whistling cheerfully to himself. It would have been welcome if she hadn't been doing all the work since they'd descended down here.

"Safe," she announced, jerking her head for him to follow.

As they continued on their way, Sparrow couldn't help but be curious about a comment the marksman had made when they had entered the underground pathway. She debated voicing her suspicions out loud, but then reminded herself that Reaver had no shame.

"So…did Andrew ever use the Rear Passage?"

Reaver raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"…Nevermind."

As she turned away, Reaver chuckled.

'_I fucking knew it.'_


	42. Keys

Carefully but swiftly, Sparrow made her way up the creaking scaffolding. After a fair few minutes and several painful breaking boards, she finally made it to the top. She stood for a moment, admiring the view. And then a dog bark sounded. All the way from the bottom of the scaffolding.

"Damn it, Chips! Is it important? Because it had better be _damn_ important, or I swear to god I'm going to punch you."

Despite the frustration, Sparrow made her way all the back down. And by that, I mean she fell down all the way on her ass, because even heroes have their clumsy moments. She lay on the ground for a moment, but then sighed and stood back up.

"All right, Chips. Lead the way to the treasure or whatever junk you've found me."

The dog barked happily and cantered over to a rock. Sparrow followed the animal, only to find that the dog had suddenly become completely disinterested in finding treasure, and was now walking around in circles because… he felt like it, I guess.

"Hey, Chips. Chips? Chips!" Sparrow clapped her hands, and the dog snapped to attention. "Treasure?"

As if to say, "Oh, right!" he began to bound off to the left through the trees. With a roll of her eyes, Sparrow followed the silly creature, who was currently running into a tree.

Finally, the two made their way to a secluded little niche, in which a glowing silver key was floating in the air. Chips barked happily at his find.

"Uh… Chips, this isn't… normal. Keys shouldn't do that."

Against her better judgment, Sparrow reached out to touch the key anyway. Her finger came into contact with the metal – warm, if her sense of touch wasn't messing with her – and it suddenly dropped to the ground. She eyed it suspiciously as she reached down to pick it up.

"Don't try to act all innocent. I'm on to you, silver key."

* * *

A bark rang out. Sparrow sighed and, without losing any speed, just spun and returned back the way she had come. Chips had probably just found another condom again, but if she didn't go get it, he'd never shut up about it.

When she finally found the dog, he was panting and pointing his nose towards a numbered treasure chest. Groaning, Sparrow went to sit down in front of it, and got out her stash of silver keys.

An hour later, Sparrow was inserting key number forty.

"Whoever thought this was a good idea should be _shot_. Preferably by _me_."

With a final sigh, Sparrow lifted the lit of the chest to find… condoms.

As she closed the lid and went to start the painful process of removing all forty keys again, Sparrow grumbled and complained.

"I'm going to shoot them several dozen times. In the face. While they're on _fire._"

* * *

A big thanks to Inkletter, who provided the idea for this wonderful chapter.


	43. Monkeys

"Reaver, seriously, what is the matter with you?" Hammer shook the marksman, trying to get him to wake up. He was currently in the fetal position, muttering to himself.

"So…many…monkeys…"

Sparrow walked back into the Guild, impatient. "What's taking so long? We have to leave."

"He's having a bad dream, I can't get him up," Hammer answered, frustrated. She gave up after one more shake and moved away. "Let's just leave him, he can catch up with us later."

Sparrow glanced down at the marksman.

"Vile…creatures…get out of my…pants…"

Sparrow blinked.

"Amazing," Hammer deadpanned. "An instance where Reaver does not want something else in his pants."

* * *

Thanks, The Black Muse, for giving us the idea for this chapter. Stay gold.


	44. Snuggle

Sparrow sighed as she finally got to lie down in bed next to her wife, who was already in dreamyland. She had had a rough day killing people and stealing things. All she really wanted to do was go to sleep and have a wonderful, refreshing night. So she did.

The next morning, her wife Patricia woke up slightly early. Giggling, she rolled over to wrap her arms around her lover, who was still knocked out cold and snoring like a hippo. Patricia snuggled up to Sparrow, just as the first rays of sunlight tickled the bed sheets.

Patricia then got a swift elbow to the face. Sparrow leapt out of bed and immediately began pulling on her boots.

"Sparrow, that hurt!"

"Sorry honey, gotta go. If I kill twenty more bandits today, I might get a raise! I have to keep up a steady income somehow."

And with a loud, "Chips, come on!" Sparrow was out the door and down the street.

Irritated, Patricia went to the door, which Sparrow had left open in her rush.

"Can't you stay and snuggle just _one _morning! Or at least stop breaking my nose!"

There was silence. Then, through the quiet, Patricia heard a faint yell coming from the horizon.

"Love you! Don't forget to feed the balverine!"

"…We don't _have_ a balverine," the confused woman muttered.

As she turned around she found that she was, in fact, wrong.


	45. Wraithmarsh

There was a throbbing in her head. For a moment, the thought was that Sparrow had drunken herself stupid and passed out in some bar (they all tended to just blend together at some point).

That couldn't be right, though. No one was yelling at her to get out, and there wasn't a bad taste lingering in her mouth.

It was very cold.

'_Wraithmarsh,' _she thought. Then, '_Well, shit.'_

She opened her eyes and was met with fog, and more importantly, bars of a cage.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Because _that'll _keep me in."

She was about to blast the bars off via force push when someone emerged from the fog.

"Well, well," the man smirked. "Alive, then. You had a dog with you…it ran off into the fog."

Sparrow blinked.

"The banshees'll have it by now," he said absentmindedly, glancing behind him.

"You have exactly three seconds," Sparrow began, voice low, eyes hard. "To decide for yourself whether or not to let me out, or leave me in."

The man looked at her, then laughed. "You're never getting out!"

He received a face full of metal in response.

Sparrow stepped out of the debris and put on her solar shielding spectacles.

"For the record, I could have done that at anytime."

YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


	46. Blacksmith

Fire. Heat. Sweat. Sparrow's arms ached, but she continued. The hammer swung, up and down, up and down, until the final clang and sizzle.

"That's one complete blade!"

Internally, Sparrow groaned. The first couple of times, fine, the comments were bearable. After he yelled them _every single blade_, though? Not so much. In fact, each comment seemed to be increasingly painful, burrowing itself into Sparrow's head.

"Nice bit of forging!"

She remained steady, attempting to ignore the comments. Losing focus now would cause her to loose a lot of gold.

"Aye, that'll do."

More irritating, but she forged (haha, pun) on.

"Nice hit!"

This time, for reasons unknown to anyone, it finally became too distracting. Sparrow's hand slipped, and the force of the hammer hitting the anvil made it ring painfully in her hand. She cursed, cringing at the lost chain she had accumulated.

"Stop hitting the anvil!"

Sparrow turned. Her face was one that would haunt the little children that were around for the rest of their nights. And (hopefully for Sparrow) maybe keep them away for at least a day or two.

"You know what, _buddy?_" The man backed up slowly in fear at the tiny yet terrifying young woman. "I'll stop hitting the anvil when you stop_ talking_. Or would you prefer that I hit your _face_ instead? Because that can be arranged."

"Y-you shouldn't talk to your employer… like… that…"

"I'll talk to my employer any damn way I feel like!" At this, she threw the hammer at his head. It whizzed through the air, until it grazed the man's ear and formed a wonderful little crater in the stone wall behind him. He shook with fear and attempted to get his mouth to work again.

"Y-your fired!" the man finally mustered up.

"You can't fire me, I quit!"

And with a graceful kick to the workbench, Sparrow stormed out into Bowerstone market to blow all the money she had just made on fancy hats and hair dye.


	47. Hobbes

Sparrow sped down the trail of Bower Lake, intent on making it on time for a job in Oakfield. Up ahead, the trail was beginning to narrow and numerous salesman and guards were passing their way through.

Off to the side, Sparrow noticed the bushes rustling and whipped out her pistol, causing the people to shriek and scatter. One man tripped and fell backwards into the bush behind him, and Sparrow spared a second to chuckle at his expense.

Hobbes exploded from the bushes and were met with very precise bullets; the fight would have lasted only a minute or two if it wasn't for one hobbe in particular that was walking on stilts.

"There's always got to be one on stilts," Sparrow muttered as she reloaded her gun. She released three more shots into his chest, but he still kept coming. Frustrated now, she aimed for its head. Instead of killing it one shot, which it would have done to _anything else, _the wood beneath its feet exploded into splinters.

Sparrow stared. "How does that even _happen?" _

Good fucking question.


	48. Lonely

Sparrow tapped her foot impatiently and once again looked around for Pendleton. She had been waiting for an _hour_ at the damned Oakfield Demon Door, and the man _still_ wasn't there. Of course, she had taken the shortcut through the lake, but it couldn't take that long to go around… could it?

Now Sparrow was concerned. Maybe a bandit had attacked him. Or he'd fallen down a cliff. Her imagination quickly became more active. Sparrow clenched her teeth at the thought of Pendleton being mauled by a balverine on the sunny Oakfield road. (Hey, it could happen!)

Just as Sparrow was about to go look for him, the man rounded the corner and came into sight. He certainly was taking his time.

After blubbering for a moment or two about how she was so worried and whatnot, they got down to business. As in, Sparrow proposed, and they went to go live happily ever after in the house in the Demon Door.

…Yeah, that's a little weird.

* * *

"Come on, Trevor! Let him out!"

The Door pouted and turned away as much as he possibly could without a neck.

"I need to get him fitted for a new jacket, he's grown too much! Just let him out for an hour or two!"

"NO."

"Why not?"

"I'M LONELY."

Sparrow threw her hands down in frustration and stalked off.

"You and Theresa should hang out sometime," she muttered, more to herself than to the door.

_I heard that._

_

* * *

_

Once again, a big thanks goes to Ms Lilly for the idea for this chapter. Love you, hun.

Another thanks goes to Slayer End, our hundredth reviewer!

And one last thanks goes out to you, dear reader. Please continue to remain wonderful.


	49. Rules

Sparrow tapped her foot as civilians gathered around her. "Listen up, everyone! As your new queen, I declare that there are going to be a few changes around here."

The crowd murmured in curiosity. "Like what?" A woman asked near the back.

"First," Sparrow held up a finger. "Thursdays are now officially Silly Hat Day. All citizens must participate or they will be mocked as a stick in the mud for the rest of their lives."

There was quiet confusion from the crowd.

"Second! Cheese is herby outlawed from Albion."

"What? Why!"

"Because I _don't like it," _Sparrow answered. "Number three, no penguins are allowed in inns on weekends."

"What the hell is a penguin?"

"And _most importantly," _she continued over the crowd. "No small children are to get within ten feet of me."

The people at this point were becoming genuinely worried. They started to turn away, uneasy.

"Oh! Wait, one more thing," Sparrow announced. "No more Reaver, _ever." _

One man sighed. "And why is that?"

"Because he is a _douche monkey." _

"Ah."

Seriously.


	50. Party

Sparrow smiled as she ran her calloused hands over the bump of her stomach. She had been running around all morning, attempting to get things ready for the party that night. The minute or two breather right now was more than welcome.

Her husband came into the room, ordering people around. Usually Sparrow was the one giving orders, but a baby shower seemed to be something her spouse could actually handle on his own. He finished talking to the servant and walked over to the throne.

"Hey sweetie, how's it going?" he asked as he settled in the throne next to her. Sparrow shrugged.

"A little tired, but I'm excited."

He grinned and patted her stomach.

"You should go rest up for the party tonight. I can handle everything."

Sparrow began to protest, but he somehow managed to be very persuasive. She went to the bedroom to nap, and later woke up to the sounds of the party later. Rubbing her eyes, Sparrow stepped out into the ballroom. What she saw surprised her.

The room was filled to overflowing with people of all shapes and sizes, most of which were at various levels of being tipsy. There were even people from neighboring kingdoms waltzing around like they owned the place. Sparrow looked around for her husband, who was lounging over the throne and clearly on his way to being drunk. She slowly made her way over to look down at him.

"What is this?"

"Uh…" he paused for a moment, and then hiccupped. "A party?"

"…Well all right then, awesome."

And then Sparrow went to party. Kind of. As much as she could when she was pregnant.

* * *

Later, Sparrow was taking a break up on one of the higher and blocked levels of the castle, when she noticed a small figure down by the castle gate. Poking her head out the window, she yelled down at him.

"Hey, you down there! What the hell are you doing?"

The figure looked up, revealing a face that she really did not want to see.

"Why hello, Sparrow! I couldn't help but hear through the grapevine that you were having a lovely little get together, and of course what is a party without the amazing Captain Reaver, correct?"

"Sorry Reaver, you're not invited!" Sparrow yelled down before retracting her head back into the castle.

"Wait a moment, why not!"

Sparrow poked her head out just long enough to yell back, "Because you're a _douche monkey!_"

"…What on Earth is a 'douche monkey'?"

* * *

Well, ladies and gentlemen, there we have it. Chapter 50. Honestly, when we started, I don't think either of us realized that it would be able to get to 50 chapters and over a hundred reviewsSo, we want to thank everyone. The readers, the reviewers, the favourite...ers. You're all amazing, especially for following us this long. We love you, we really do.

NOW. Fear not, wonderful readers. This may be the end of this set of oneshots, but, like we said before we will be doing another set of oneshots this time based on Fable 3, so be looking out for that around... this weekend or so. We're looking forward to making fun of Reaver. The douche monkey.

And, as an ending note, we are for the first time ever actually going to comment separately.

From The Hammer of Thor: This is by far the coolest fic that I've ever written. Thanks for reading, guys. NOW GO PLAY FABLE 3.

From Cheesy Cracker: I... really have nothing left to say, except repeat one last time that you're all awesome. I hope you'll all read our next story, or our other one if I actually get around to writing the next chapter.


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